


make your enemies your friends

by nonbinaryezrabridger



Series: enemies verse [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Gen, Hallucinations, Mental Health Issues, Pre Arthur/Eames, Pre-Slash, Psychosis, Robert remembers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26370679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonbinaryezrabridger/pseuds/nonbinaryezrabridger
Summary: Robert Fischer may be losing his mind. He sets out to discover why by tracking down the man he met at the airport: Eames.[a robert remembers verse]
Relationships: Arthur & Eames (Inception), Arthur & Robert (Inception), Eames & Robert (Inception)
Series: enemies verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1916371
Kudos: 4





	1. chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I will be posting trigger warnings before each chapter, but I'd like to also give a blanket warning here: this fic is about psychosis, portrayed as best I can, but that may be triggering to read. It was sometimes triggering to write. please take care of yourself and don't read if it will be harmful. (the story will have a happy ending but getting there will be tough)
> 
> tw for this chapter: hallucinations, mentions of drowning and guns

\---------

Eames is standing in the vague area of the rest of the team, waiting for his luggage. He’s already celebrating the fact that they even got out alive from that clusterfuck. That and they seemed to have been successful. So he’s thinking to himself that he’ll treat himself to a couple drinks at his favorite bar, now that his bank account should be full.

That is, until someone walks up to him and clears their throat. He takes a look out of the corner of his eye and sees Robert Fischer and curses mentally. The man fidgets minutely before speaking, his voice tentative:

“Excuse me, but do I know you?”

Eames tries to weigh his options, to say yes, they shared a plane, or no?

Finally he settles on snarking instead.

“I’ve definitely heard that pickup line before, love.”

Fischer blushes slightly and Eames grins. Looks like he’ll be easy to distract, if need be. Eames is not above using a bit of charm to get his way. Robert shakes his head and stutters out:

“I’m being serious. I think I know you.”

Eames can feel the rest of the team's eyes on him, subtly, and he can practically feel their concern. He’s concerned too; what if something’s gone wrong? How could Fischer recognize him? He should be a blurry face, slipping away a few minutes after waking. Yet here Fischer is, dogging him. Eames lets his voice go cold, covered with a layer of politeness, hoping to discourage him.

“I’m pretty sure I don’t know you.”

Fischer raises an eyebrow and mumbles to himself:

“And here I thought everyone knew me. Figures.”

Eames has to try very hard not to laugh. Robert seems a mixture of bitter and humorous. Then the moment passes and he’s looking back up, blue eyes intent. He starts searching for something in the suitcase he’s already grabbed, pulling out a hotel pad of paper and a pen. He scribbles something down and rips it off before handing it over to Eames. 

“I’ve got to go, but please consider calling me. I’ll make it worth your time.”

Eames considers making another sexual innuendo, just to see his cheeks color again, but at that, Fischer walks away. He disappears into the crowd and Eames has a moment to feel confused before Arthur slides in next to him and asks: 

“What was that?”

Eames tilts the phone number towards him and says:

“Guess he liked my face.”

And winks.

Arthur looks exasperated, which is good for Eames; means he’s accepted the explanation. That and he just enjoys making Arthur exasperated. Arthur sighs and says:

“Just remember, no contact with the mark after this.”

Eames sighs too and snarls:

“I know that, Arthur.”

Arthur just glares and walks away. Eames’ mind is already turning from the strange interaction to those drinks of his, and he drops the number in the trash on his way out.

—————

Robert makes his way out of the airport, following his escort and trailed by a pair of bodyguards. He’s driven to a high class hotel where he’s given the key to a suite. He has a little time to unwind before Uncle Peter gets here, so he undoes his tie and takes off his suspenders before collapsing onto the bed. He stares at the ceiling and is about to drift off when he hears a voice say:

“Hello Mr. Fischer.”

There’s a man standing in the room with him, eyes slightly squinty and a hand on the button of his suit jacket. He smiles politely at Robert. Robert sits up, frowning. The man continues:

“My name is Mr. Charles.”

“Why didn’t you knock? I’m not scheduled for anything right now.”

Mr. Charles ignores that and steps forwards:

“Mr Fischer, I think you may be in danger.”

Robert is about to tell the man to buzz off when something surfaces in his brain: the feeling of having a gun trained on him, a sack pulled over his head. He frowns deeper and asks:

“What kind of danger?”

Behind Mr. Fischer, the door opens. Uncle Peter comes in and Robert greets him, before saying:

“I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Then to Mr. Charles:

“Please continue.”

Mr Charles does:

“I believe your mind may be under attack.”

Robert sighs; that’s a new one. Good thing he’s had that under the table extraction training done.

“Please, tell me more.”

Before Mr. Charles can speak again, Uncle Peter steps forwards, his face gravely concerned. Robert asks him:

“What’s wrong, uncle peter?”

Peter hesitates, but asks:

“Who are you talking to?”

Robert frowns.

“Mr. Charles.”

Peter says softly: 

“Who?”

Robert gestured towards the man:

“Him! Didn’t you send him up?”

Peter looks over and so does Robert, only you find the man has disappeared. Robert gapes at the empty air. He would have seen him leave. 

If he were real.

Robert feels like an anchor’s been set on his chest. Peter looks at him and finally sits down on the bed next to him and asks:

“What’s wrong, Robert?”

Robert swallows, fear suddenly sinks into him. The evidence of his eyes is inescapable. He doesn’t want to say it out loud, but this is Uncle Peter. He deserves to know. He whispers:

“I saw a man. Here, I didn't see him enter, and he said I’m in danger. But when you asked me who, he disappeared.”

Uncle peter frowns.

“You saw a man? Just a trick of the light, right, not like a...”

“A hallucination.”

Uncle Peter jerks at that, his hand coming down to cover Robert’s comfortingly.

“No. You’re probably just stressed. It’s been a hard few days. Why don’t you take a nap?”

Robert stifles the urge to say more. Uncle Peter is right, it must not have been a hallucination. Just a trick of the light. Or something.

Uncle Peter leaves and Robert crawls under the sheets of the hotel bed, managing to drift off despite his concerns.

He dreams of drowning, a seat belt tight over his chest and a sack over his head, river water filling his lungs.

\--------


	2. chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter: hallucinations

\---------

When he wakes, he sits up and grabs his phone, planning to fool around on some social media or another. Instead he pulls open his pictures and looks at the picture he had snapped of the man in the airport. An invasion of privacy, he knows, but something about that man had been so important. As he looks, a voice startles him:

“You know what to do.”

He looks up to see Mr. Charles. He startles, scrambling back against the headboard as he stares at the man. He stutters:

“What?”

Mr Charles leans forwards, intent.

“You’re rich and powerful. You can find out who he is.”

Robert’s hands shake around the phone, but he knows the man is right. He looks up again and asks:

“Will finding this man help me with the danger you spoke of?”

He kicks himself, trying to remind himself the man he’s talking to isn’t real. But he seems to know something, something Robert needs to know. Something about the man from the airport.

“Yes.”

Robert stands and calls down to Uncle Peter, telling him to get a search done on this picture and sends it to him. Then he turns back to Mr Charles, but the man has disappeared again. It only reminds him that he may be losing his mind. He shakes his head and focuses; if he can find the man from the airport, maybe things will become clearer.

\--------

He goes to his father’s funeral. He has a piercing headache the whole time, and is so light headed he can barely hear what anyone is saying, but he toughs it out for appearances. Across from him, Mr. Charles looks as mournful as the occasion calls for. Robert pretends he doesn’t see him.

\---------

Back in the hotel, Robert is ordering room service when his phone dings. He looks at the text, which is a reply from Uncle Peter, holding the information he had asked for. The man’s name is Eames, and he appears to be a known criminal and dreamsharer. Robert’s heart clenches at that; was Mr. Charles right? Was there a danger to his mind? Or, he thinks, had the danger already gotten him? He knew Eames, somehow, and that didn’t bode well.

He sits down and focuses on what to do.

Mr. Charles says what he’s thinking:

“I think it’s time to arrange a meeting with Mr. Eames.”

\----------


	3. chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter: guns, threats of violence

\-----------

Eames is on his way out of the city when he gets grabbed. He’s not surprised, per say, he has lots off debts to pay off. 

The warehouse he’s dragged to isn’t a surprise, and neither are the chair he’s tied to or the sack over his head. But when it’s taken off, he’s very surprised.

In front of him sits Mr. Fischer.

“Mr. Eames.”

Uh oh. Real name, that’s not good.

Eames decides it’s best not to respond and tries to look scared and confused instead. Fischer smiles at him and continues:

“Would you like to tell me why I know you?”

Eames protests his innocence:

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Fischer sighs and turns to one of the thugs standing at his side, holding out a hand and ordering:

“Gun.”

The thug pulls out a handgun and slaps into his palm. Fischer curls his fingers around it and aims it at Eames’ forehead. Eames sighs and rolls his eyes as he says:

“You won’t do it.”

Fischer aims the gun a moment longer, irritation growing in his face, before letting it fall to his side. He growls:

“I’ve destroyed countless reputations, exploited workers, left businesses crumpling. Why wouldn’t I be able to do this?”

Eames smiles and shrugs. 

“Blood on your hands is always different.”

Fischer hands the gun back to the thug and gestures at the hulking man, saying:

“I could walk away and have him do it.”

Eames grins and leans forwards as he says:

“You could. But you won’t. Because you’re curious, aren’t you?”

Fischer smiles slyly and says:

“I am. But you’re not going to tell me anything, are you?”

Eames settles back into the chair, smirking, and says:

“Nope.”

Fischer sighs and waves the thug out of the room. Once the man is gone he becomes a whole different person; he slouches, all his bravado gone, and rubs at his forehead as he grimaces in pain. Eames watches him with growing concern. He paces until his legs grow visibly unsteady, at which he pulls a chair out and sits across from Eames. He looks up at Eames, hair falling in his face, and says weakly:

“Something’s wrong with me.”

Then he flinches, looks to the side, staring at the blank wall as if it has some significance. Eames swallows nervously and weighs his options. He’s got a pretty good chance of Fischer just letting him go. But there’s another part of him that feels partially responsible for the man. He had thought his mostly nonexistent morals could handle inception, but looking at the man in front of him, he’s finding it harder than he thought it would be to walk away. So he asks:

“What do you mean, Fischer?”

Fischer wrings his hands, still staring at the wall.

“I see a man, a Mr. Charles. He talks to me. He says I’m in danger. He says people are trying to attack my mind.”

Eames gapes. That is uncomfortably close to the truth. He watches Fischer stare at the wall with unerring certainty. All he can think of to do is ask:

“Are you seeing him right now?”

Fischer nods, then tilts his head like he’s listening to something. When he looks back at Eames, his eyes are blazing with fury. 

“Mr. Charles says you’re the one who attacked my mind.”

\---------------


	4. chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter: guns

\-------------

Eames knows he should deny it. But somehow, there doesn’t seem to be any point any more. Fischer knows. Impossibly, he knows, and he’s pissed as hell. 

“I did, I was only thinking of the money, I didn’t think about…”

Fischer snarls:

“About the fact that I’m a person? Who can feel violation, fear, pain?”

Eames drops his head and tries to think. What should he do here?

“Look, Fischer, it sounds like you need help. Something’s obviously wrong. Do you have any one who can help you?”

Fischer bites at his lip, the fury fading and being replaced with fear. 

“I don’t know. I thought I could trust Uncle Peter, but now I don’t know. And everyone else, they’re only there for me because I pay them.”

Eames tries not to think about how sad that is. Before he can says anything else, Fischer speaks up:

“What kind of help do you think I need?”

Eames shrugs and says:

“Well, I’m not an expert in mental health, but probably a therapist would be a good start. And if the therapist thinks you need medication, you’d be referred to a psychiatrist.”

Fischer buries his head his hands. 

“God, this is just perfect. If Uncle Peter found out I’m going to a therapist he’d probably try to get me declared insane so they have an opportunity to take over the company before I can break it up.”

Uh oh, thinks Eames. If Fischer doesn't control his company, he can't break it up, and Saito will be pissed. Maybe even come after Eames. This has suddenly become a matter of self preservation as well as a moral quandary. Eames needs Fischer to remain in charge, and it looks like that’s going to take some work, judging by the man sobbing in front of him. 

Eames lets his voice go soft and comforting:

“Hey, Fischer, I’ll help you.”

Fischer looks up with wide blue eyes.

“You will? How?”

Eames shifts uncomfortably, pushing against the rope tying him to the chair. He’s not sure this is a good idea, but he’s in too deep to get out now. 

“I know a therapist. I can get you there without people knowing.”

Fischer smiles slyly despite the tears on his cheeks and says:

“You are a criminal aren’t you, you’d know how to get around secretly.”

Eames grins and says:

“I don’t like to think of myself as a criminal, more as an opportunist.”

Fischer laughs and stands, stepping up behind the chair Eames is tied to and begins undoing the intricate knots. One he’s released, Eames shakes his arms out and sighs in relief. Then he turns to Fischer and says:

“I’ll need to schedule you an appointment, and once I have I’ll let you know where and when we’ll meet up to drive there. Can I have your phone number?”

Fischer nods and steps over to the table where Eames' stuff had been placed, picking up the phone and tossing it to him. Eames opens up his contacts and nods his readiness to Fischer. Fischer quickly recites from memory:

“636 738 3839.”

Eames nods and says:

“I’ll text you. Am I free to go?”

Fischer nods, but steps forwards and says:

“Before you go...thank you.”

Eames feels guilt surge inside of him; here is Fischer thanking him when he was part of the group who caused this. He hates feeling guilty, but he guesses the only way to stop it is to make up for the damage he caused. If that’s even possible, he doesn’t know what’s going on with Fischer, and whether he can do anything to help. He shakes his head and focuses; time to get out of here and make an appointment with Eliza.

Fischer steps up alongside him as he strides towards the door, saying:

“I’ll walk you out.”

There’s an implied “so you don’t get shot” there. Eames just nods.

They step out of the room, a thug waiting outside pulling a gun on Eames until Fischer barks out an order. So it goes throughout the rest of the safehouse, guns trained and then abruptly lowered as Fischer escorts Eames out. They make it to the sidewalk and Eames waves down a taxi without hesitation. Fischer nods to him as he gets inside the car and then they’re pulling away, leaving Fischer looking small and lost on the sidewalk.

\------------


	5. chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter: hallucinations

\-------------

Fischer lies in bed, face buried in the pillow, trying not to see the man standing on the other side of the room. Mr. Charles sighs and walks over to the bed, sitting next to Robert. He says:

“You can’t trust him, you know.”

Robert grits his teeth and snarls:

“He said he would help.”

Mr. Charles scoffs.

“He’s a criminal who assaulted your mind and who you’ve known for a day.”

Robert rolls over and screws his eyes shut.

“I’m choosing to believe in the goodness of people.” 

Mr. Charles laughs scathingly.

“After living with your father for years you don’t believe there’s any good in people.”

Robert groans and stands up, pacing across the room, wishing Mr. Charles would just go away.

“I’m turning over a new leaf.”

Just as Mr. Charles opens his mouth to reply, Robert’s phone goes bing, vibrating on the bedside table. Robert dives for it and opens the text message, which reads:

“This is Eames. Appointment scheduled. Meet me tomorrow in the Roland square at 2:30.”

Robert sighs with relief and collapses back onto the bed. Mr. Charles just shakes his head disapprovingly. 

\-------------


	6. chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter: none

\------------

Robert is waiting in Roland square, tapping his foot nervously. He doesn’t have long to wait before Eames shows up, looking as scruffy as the last time Robert saw him. Eames nods to Robert and says:

“This way.”

Before walking off. Robert follows him, saying:

“I hope you appreciate how difficult it is for me to leave without my body guards noticing.”

Eames smirks at him, saying:

“You’re such a rich kid.”

Robert snaps his mouth shut around an angry reply. Eames stops and says:

“We’re here.”

Robert takes in the old beater car and can’t help but laugh.

“This is your car?”

Eames frowns and says:

“Hey! She’s dependable, okay?”

Robert just laughs. Eames rolls his eyes and says:

“Get in, rich kid.”

Robert does and Eames hits the gas, driving out onto the main road. Then he begins to drive in circles it seems, with no particular direction.

“What are you doing?”

Asks Robert.

Eames replies:

“Looking to see if you have a tail.”

Then he hums and says:

“Sure enough, you do.”

Then he goes screeching around a corner and speeds through a number of turns until he seems satisfied:

“Lost him. Now we can go.”

Hey pull up in front of a small brick building just a few minutes before three. Eames stops the car and says:

“Go on in.”

Robert nods and steps out of the car, feeling his fingers twitch nervously. Still, he walks into the building and follows the signs to a small room. A woman looks up as he enters and gives him a friendly smile.

“Hello. You’re Robert?”

He nods.

“And you’re Eliza.”

She gestures for him to sit down and says:

“So Robert, is this your first time meeting with a therapist?”

“Yes, although I’ve considered it for a long time.”

Eliza nods and asks:

“So what has prompted you to come to me now?”

Robert shifts nervously, afraid of saying what’s going on, but Eames already knows, and that alone could ruin him. So he says:

“I’m seeing a man, he talks to me, but he’s not really there. Other people can’t see him.”

They go through a series of questions, trying to figure out what other symptoms he’s been having. That takes up most of the hour session, and at the end, Robert asks:

“So what do you think it is, Eliza?”

“Well, we’ve only had one session, so I can’t hazard a diagnosis yet. But what you’re experiencing is called psychosis. It is a condition where one loses touch with reality, has trouble telling what’s real and what’s not. It’s characterized by hallucinations, which is what Mr. Charles seems to be, and delusions, which the idea that your mind is under attack may be. Psychosis is treatable, I recommend you see a psychiatrist for medication and continue visiting me for therapy.”

Robert sighs, he had unrealistically hoped that one session would be enough. He gives in and says:

“Very well.”

He schedules another appointment, gets the phone number for the psychiatrist’s office, and pays Eliza before heading back out to where Eames is waiting. When Robert gets into the car, Eames holds out a cup and asks:

“You drink coffee?”

Robert takes it gratefully and says:

“I most certainly do.”

As Eames drives back to Roland square, he asks:

“How did it go?”

Robert sighs; it’s still sinking in.

“She says I have psychosis and that I need to see a psychiatrist. Can you make that happen as well, Eames?”

Eames takes a sip of his own coffee and nods.

“You make the appointment and I’ll get you there.”

Robert lets himself relax back in the seat, some of the weight lifting off his shoulders at Eames’ promise to help. It’s a short ride back to Roland square, when Eames lets Robert out. Robert lets him go with a simple “thank you”. Eames nods and drives off with a wave. Robert begins the walk back to the hotel.

\------------


	7. chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter: hallucinations, paranoia, coming out

\-----------

Robert walks back into the hotel, doing his best to not look suspicious. He makes it up the stairs and thinks he’s just about scott free until he enters his suite to find Uncle Peter waiting for him. Robert freezes and stares at him, wondering if he’s been caught. He wonders what he’ll do if he has; he has no real friends, nowhere to go. Not that it really matters, Uncle Peter will probably have him put in an institution, where he’s out of the way and no threat to him. Robert tries not to panic, taking a deep breath, and speaks, his voice tight with anger:

“I didn’t say you could come up.”

Uncle Peter shifts in his chair and says lowly:

“You broke our trust first, Robert. Leaving without your guards? Sneaking off to meet a man? Losing my tail that I put on you to keep you safe?”

Robert has to bite his lip at that, trying to keep the furious words from exploding out of him. Blowing up now will not help his case.

Robert walks forwards, paces around the room as he says:

“I don’t like being spied on.”

Uncle Peter sighs, turning to face Robert, and says:

“You could have just told me you were gay.”

Robert almost chokes.

“What?”

Uncle peter continues, keeping his voice soft, trying to be comforting:

“I understand hiding an affair from the press, but you don’t need to hide it from me.”

Robert feels a wave of relief. Uncle Peter doesn’t know the truth. He sits down heavily on the bed and says:

“You caught me.”

Uncle peter smiles and says:

“It’s okay, Robert. But the next time you go to meet him, you will take one of my men with you.”

Robert scoffs.

“I will do no such thing.”

Uncle Peter stands, his face turning angry, and snarls:

“Robert Fischer, you will do as I say--”

Robert cuts him off, screaming in rage:

“You treat me like a child! News flash, Uncle, you’re not my father. You are here at my discretion, and if necessary, I can have you replaced.”

Uncle Peter goes pale. He whispers:

“Robert, where has this animosity come from?”

Robert steps closer to him, looking him in the eye.

“No one tells me what to do. I am my own man, and you just can’t see that. That’s why you can't understand me breaking up my father’s empire.”

If possible, Uncle Peter goes even paler.

“You’re planning to break it up? Robert, you have to know that’s a terrible idea!”

Robert throws a hand out and snarls:

“Get out.”

Uncle Peter opens his mouth to speak and Robert screams:

“GET OUT!”

Uncle Peter snaps his mouth shut and goes, still holding his head high. Robert collapses onto the bed and buries his face in the pillows. He’s about to fall asleep when he hears a voice, one he recognizes as Mr. Charles:

“Impressive. If only you were this proactive about protecting your mind.”

Robert groans and stumbles to his feet. He points a finger at Mr. Charles and says:

“Eliza says you’re not real. I know you’re not real.”

Mr. Charles smirks. 

“Maybe so. But didn’t I get you the truth? Eames helped break into your mind. How do you know it’s not going to happen again?”

Robert buries his face in his hand, tugging at his bangs with his fingers. Then he stands and in a frenzy of activity, checks every window in the large suite, making sure they’re closed and locked. Then he checks that the suite door is firmly closed. Throughout this all Mr. Charles just watches him. Robert sits back down on the bed and says to the hallucination:

“No one’s getting in here.”

Mr. Charles grins and says:

“Do you really think that will stop them?”

Robert curses and throws a pillow at Mr. Charles. He doesn’t wait for it to hit before he buries his head back in the bed and does his best to ignore Mr. Charles. 

\-------------


	8. chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter: paranoia

\------------

As Fischer gets into the car, Eames does a double take. The man looks a mess, his hair unkempt, big bags under his eyes, and a slight tremble in his fingers. Eames, never one for tact, says:

“You look terrible.”

Eames feels the familiar guilt rise up into his stomach. He asks as he pulls away from the square:

“What’s wrong?”

Fischer groans, collapsing so that his forehead rests on the headboard. It’s undignified and probably out of character for him.

“I can’t sleep. I’m afraid they’re watching me, waiting to strike while I’m asleep.”

Eames tightens his grip on the steering wheel, uncomfortable with how similar that is to what they did to Fischer.

“Who’s they, Fischer?”

Fischer looks up, blue eyes intent on Eames, and says something Eames doesn’t expect.

“Please, call me Robert.”

Eames raises an eyebrow at familiarity but continues:

“Alright. Who’s they, Robert?”

Robert frowns focusing back on the question and says:

“I don’t know, but Mr. Charles says they’re coming for me.”

Eames bites his lip, trying to figure out what to say without pissing Robert off.

“Have you talked with Eliza about this.”

Robert sighs, sitting back in the seat with a thump and throwing a hand against his forehead.

“Yes I have, I even know that he’s not real, they’re not real, but they feel like they are. And I’m afraid.”

Eames feels the strange urge to comfort the man. But he has nothing to say, so instead he just asks:

“What about the company? Everything going okay.”

Robert laughs bitterly.

“Oh, it’s going perfectly. I pissed off Uncle Peter and he tried to convince the board of directors to take over the company. Fortunately they don’t have the power to do that.”

Eames regrets asking. He says:

“I’m sorry.”

Robert looks at him, and earnestly says:

“Thank you, Eames.”

Just then they pull up to the psychiatrist’s office and Eames watches Robert get out, noticing the man’s legs shaking as he walks toward the office building. Eames throws the car into park and runs up after him. Robert looks at him with surprise, and Eames asks:

“Do you want me to wait with you? So you aren’t alone?”

Robert smiles weakly but genuinely.

“I would like that, Eames.”

They walk into the building together and Eames feels the guilt lift, just a little bit.

\-------------


	9. chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter: none

\------------

Eames has parked his car after taking Robert to the psychiatrist---where he was prescribed antipsychotics---and is walking up the stairs to his apartment when he hears a polished voice say:

“Since when were you a chauffeur?”

Eames turns, dread in his stomach, to face Arthur. He decides to play dumb and says:

“I don’t know what you mean, darling.”

He tacks on the darling, hoping it’ll distract Arthur, but no such luck. Arthur’s eyes bore into Eames as he says:

“Come on now, Eames. I know you’re talking with Fischer, hell maybe even working for him. The gig’s up. How much is he paying you?”

Eames grins a bit self deprecatingly. 

“Sadly, nothing.”

Arthur smirks and asks sarcastically:

“What, you’re doing it out of the good of your heart?”

Eames shrugs and nods. Arthur glares for a moment before shock enters his eyes. He whispers:

“Shit, you’re telling the truth.”

Eames smiles again and unlocks his door, saying:

“What do you say we talk about this sitting down with some tea.”

Arthur follows him inside, taking his shoes off at the door when Eames does. Eames heads straight to the kitchen and begins boiling some water. He doesn’t expect Arthur to follow, but a moment later he feels dark eyes on him. Arthur speaks softly, gently, like Eames is some wounded thing that needs his compassion:

“What made you do it, Eames? You know it’s dangerous.”

Eames laughs.

“Well, at first it was the fact he had me kidnapped and tied to a chair.”

He can see Arthur’s fists clench just a bit at that. But he continues, his voice raw and vulnerable:

“But then I saw the mess we made him. And I couldn’t stand back and watch him destroy himself.”

Arthur chuckles.

“So you do have a conscience. Funny, I thought that was more of a me thing.”

Eames turns to him, holding two cups of tea, one of which Arthur takes. Eames is suddenly struck by an idea, a silly idea, but one that might work to his benefit. He smiles slyly at Arthur and says:

“You could help us, Arthur.”

Arthur scoffs.

“And make him more likely to remember? No thanks, Eames.”

Eames sighs, admits:

“He already knows I broke into his mind, Arthur.”

Arthur goes stock still, fury growing in his face.

“You told him?”

Eames extends his hands defensively and protests:

“No! The damn hallucination of Cobb that talks to him told him.”

Arthur gapes:

“He’s hallucinating Cobb?”

“In his Mr. Charles persona, but yes. And He’s obsessed with the idea that someone’s going to break into his mind.”

Arthur sighs.

“You don’t think this is going to be like Mal, do you?”

Eames feels himself go deadly serious.

“If he doesn’t get help, I know it will be. That’s why I’ve been driving him to therapist and psychiatrist’s appointments.”

Arthur’s cold facade falls slightly.

“That’s what you’ve been doing for him?”

Eames nods.

“I referred him to Eliza.”

Arthur sighs and says:

“If anyone can help him, she can.”

Eames grins, convinced he’s got Arthur hooked. Secretly, the point man is one big softie.

“So you’ll help us?”

Arthur groans, but sips his tea for a moment, before saying:

“If you don’t mind me sleeping on your couch.”

\-------------


	10. chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter: hallucinations, panic attacks

\--------------

Eames is pleasantly asleep when he’s rudely woken by the annoying ringtone of his phone. He grumbles as he claws at it, checking the number to see it’s Robert calling him. He reluctantly picks it up and presses it to his ear, saying:

“Hello?”

Robert’s voice comes through, shaking and fearful:

“Eames?”

Eames can’t help but wonder what’s going on. Is Robert in danger?

“Yes, Robert. What’s going on?”

Robert sobs, making Eames sit up straight, ready to jump into action. Robert whimpers:

“I heard someone outside my door, they’re coming for me!”

Eames doesn’t quite know what to do. He doubts anyone is actually coming for Robert, but the man sounds to be working himself into quite a state. So Eames tries to comfort:

“Robert, it’s going to be okay.”

Robert shrieks, voice shrill, and Eames jumps. Robert begs:

“Please, Eames, come over. I can’t be by myself, I’m so scared.”

Eames is already rolling out of bed, pulling on a pair of pants and running into the living room. He kicks Arthur gently to wake him up as he says:

“I’m coming, Robert. Just hang on a little longer.”

Robert continues to sob as Arthur wakes with a jolt. He glares at Eames until he hears the sobbing, then he mouths:

“What?”

Eames says:

“Robert, I’m bringing a friend, okay? He’ll help me protect you. I know you’re scared but we’ll be right there.”

Arthur seems to understand and stands, pulling on his pants as well, as Robert says:

“Okay, thank you. Thank you, Eames.”

Arthur dressed, they sprint for the car. Eames throws Arthur the keys and he slips behind the wheel as Eames gets in the passenger seat. Arthur pulls out of the parking lot and takes off for the hotel where Eames told him Robert is staying. Robert continues to sob over the line, and soon begins to gasp as he hyperventilate. He says:

“Mr. Charles says he can’t protect me. They’re coming, I know it.”

Eames almost pleads:

“Robert, we’re almost there. Please just hang on.”

He’s worried the man’s going to have a heart attack, with how afraid he sounds. Just then Arthur pulls up to the hotel. Eames throws open the car door and runs for the lobby, saying into the phone:

“Robert, we’re here. We’re in the lobby.”

Arthur points towards the stair and they sprint up, panting by the time they reach Robert’s floor. They’re running towards his room when a pair of bodyguards, push in front of them, blocking the way. Arthur begins trying to explain to them that they’re expected. Eames doesn’t bother, just asks Robert:

“Robert, we’re outside your room but the bodyguards won’t let us in. Can you come out and get us.”

There’s no reply, but a moment later the hotel room door swings open and Robert stumbles out. He’s a wreck, tears smeared over his cheeks, his hair a bird’s nest from tearing at it. He screams:

“Let them in!”

The body guards jump and step aside.

Eames and Arthur rush inside, Arthur shutting the door behind them. Meanwhile Eames finds his breath knocked out as Robert hugs him, as tight as he possibly can. Eames feels horribly awkward but pats Robert on the back. Robert gasps:

“Oh thank you, thank you.”

Then he pulls away and looks Arthur over. He asks suspiciously:

“How do you know he’s not working with them?”

Arthur’s expression doesn’t change, he just looks at Robert. Eames says:

“He’s not, Robert. I’ve worked with him for years, I trust him with my life.”

Robert relaxes, tears still rolling down his face, but lessening. Eames takes his arm gently and walks him towards the bed.

“Why don’t we get you comfortable?”

Arthur parallels them, asking:

“Do you drink tea, Robert?”

Robert lets himself be pressed down onto the bed, and nods tiredly. Arthur says:

“Good. I’ll call room service.”

Eames pulls the blankets up over Robert, who doesn’t resist, and asks:

“Robert, are you taking your medication?”

Robert sobs weakly and says:

“Yes, but it isn’t helping.”

Eames pats him on the shoulder.

“Okay, that’s okay. We’ll call the psychiatrist tomorrow and get the dosage upped, yeah?”

Robert nods, watching Arthur return to the bedside with tear bright blue eyes. He asks Arthur:

“What your name?”

Arthur gives him a slight smile and reaches out to shake.

“Arthur. Pleased to meet you.”

Robert smiles and shakes, saying:

“I’m sorry you didn’t catch me at a better time.”

Arthur responds:

“Believe me, I’ve seen worse. At least you’re not smashing things.”

Robert laughs and says to Eames:

“I like your friend, Eames. He tells me what I want to hear.”

Eames grins at Robert glad he’s calming down. Then there’s a knock of the door and Robert jumps out of his skin. Arthur and Eames both have drawn their guns at the unexpected noise, but quickly put them away. Arthur says somewhat sheepishly:

“Room service. I’ll get it.”

He opens the door, Robert watching nervously, and takes the three teas from the worker. He brings them over to the bed and hands them out. Eames watches Robert take a slow sip and says:

“Okay, we’ll drink our tea and then we’ll see if you can sleep, right?”

Robert nods.

“As long as you promise you won’t leave.”

Arthur and Eames both nod and Eames says:

“Promise. ”

Robert smooths a hand over the bed and says:

“You can join me, if you like.”

Eames smirks at him and Robert smiles back, saying:

“Nothing untoward, Eames. Simply offering. There’s also the couch if that’s more your fancy.”

Arthur pipes up:

“I’ll take the couch, if you don’t mind.”

Eames sighs over dramatically and says to Robert:

“Guess I’m stuck with you.”

Robert scoffs.

“My presence is a delight and you know it.”

Eames laughs wholeheartedly and slips into the bed as Arthur settles down on the couch. Robert’s eyes are already slipping shut so Eames takes the tea from his hands and says:

“Good night, Robert.”

\---------------


	11. chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter: none

\---------------

Eames wakes slowly, perfectly comfortable in the fluffy bed with sheets that probably have a thread count higher than anything he’s ever slept on before. He hears the sounds of someone walking past the bed and lazily opens his eyes to see Arthur. He’s barefoot and holding another cup of tea, and Eames finds the domesticity of him in this moment quite charming. Arthur sets the cup of tea on the bedside table and says:

“This one’s for you. The other’s for Robert, once he wakes up.” 

Eames nods and reaches over to grab the tea---green this morning---and takes a sip. Then he takes a look at his bedmate, who is still peacefully asleep. Robert still looks exhausted, even in his sleep, but slightly more at peace. Arthur speaks up, keeping his voice quiet, and says:

“I can see why you chose to help him.”

Eames grins and says:

“I like to think I would have done the same for anyone else.”

Arthur smiles slightly.

“Perhaps you would have. I don’t think we’ll ever find out, I don’t intend on doing inception again.”

Eames rushes to say:

“No way. Once is enough for me.”

Robert shifts, opening his eyes slowly, before focusing on Eames. He looks shocked and Eames worriedly asks:

“Robert, is everything alright?”

A smile creeps across Robert’s face and he says:

“I just didn’t expect you to actually stay.”

Eames feels a kick of sadness at that, but distracts himself by pointing out Robert’s own cup of tea on the other bedside table.

“There’s tea if you want it.”

Robert takes it gladly, wrapping his hands around the ceramic cup to pull as much warmth from it as possible. 

He grins and says:

“I’m glad you two seem to be as enthusiastic about tea as I am.”

Eames laughs and Arthur joins him. Eames jokes:

“They say the warmth of the tea cup simulates human contact, so I guess we’re all just lonely.”

Robert looks at him, something vulnerable gleaming in his eyes as he says:

“I’ve always been lonely, but maybe I won’t be anymore.”

Eames can’t speak around the sudden choked feeling in his throat. Arthur is grinning at him, the bastard, just glorying in Eames experiencing a bona fide human emotion. Robert reaches out and pats Eames’ hand, before changing the subject:

“I have a meeting with the board of directors in twenty minutes. Would you two like to come? I’m officially dissolving my father’s empire.”

Eames nods excitedly and Arthur shrugs.

“Why not?”

\------------

Eames and Arthur sit flanking Robert at the end of a long table. The board of directors is in uproar, screaming at Robert. He sits there calmly, blue eyes intent, and takes it without flinching. The board shriek and convulse in their anger, but don't get too close, probably because of Eames and Arthur’s imposing figures at Robert’s sides. Otherwise Eames has the feeling they’d be all up in his face. Robert lets them complain for a few minutes before gesturing for the paperwork to be brought over to him. The screaming reaches a crescendo as he signs, but as soon as the pen is down, they fall into silence. 

Robert turns to Eames and says:

“It’s done.”

\-----------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sure that it would have taken more than signing paperwork to dissolve an empire, but for dramatic effect I wrote it this way


	12. chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and last chapter! I'm planning for this to be a series, with the next one in the installment being arthur and eames getting together, so if that interests you, feel free to subscribe to the series. I hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> tw for this chapter: none

\----------------

It’s been two months, and Robert has given up the lavish lifestyle of his childhood to move into the apartment next to Eames. At first Eames had still received calls from him at night, asking for his company, so Robert wouldn’t be alone. But with a higher dose of antipsychotics, the hallucinations had quieted, and slowly the calls had stopped. Arthur has hung around, for some reason Eames doesn’t fully understand, and lives out of a nearby hotel. He comes over for dinner every friday, and today is one of those fridays.

There’s a knock on the door and Eames yells into the kitchen where Robert is working:

“I’ll get it.”

Robert gives him a nod without looking up from the bok choy he’s cutting. Eames saunters over to the door, checking the peephole out of habit, before opening it to see Arthur’s handsome face. He’s not quite smiling, but when he sees Eames his lips curl up at the corners and his eyes twinkle. Eames tries to ignore how his heart leaps and says:

“Come on in.”

Arthur does so, careful not to knock the two bottles he’s carrying against the doorframe. He hands one to Eames, saying:

“I brought you wine, dry red, just like you like it.”

Eames is touched by the fact that Arthur knows his taste in wine. He stumbles to say:

“Thanks, Arthur.”

Robert comes out of the kitchen, the sizzling of a pan a good sign he’s put the bok choy in, wiping his hands on a towel. Arthur steps up to him and says:

“I know you can’t drink, so I brought some of that bubbly grape juice. I hope that’s okay?”

Robert grins and takes the bottle, ferrying it back into the kitchen and through into the small dining area.

“That’s perfect. Thanks. ”

Arthur sniffs the delicious scent from the kitchen and asks:

“What’s cooking?”

Eames gestures for him to enter, never mind that three people in the kitchen is going to be tight. 

“Miso salmon for us, tofu with the same marinade for you, and some bok choy and rice as sides.”

Arthur looks over the kitchen, the pots bubbling and Robert happily stirring the rice, and smiles fondly. He says:

“That’s perfect. How can I help?”

Robert sets him to work stirring the bok choy as Eames keeps an eye on the fish and the tofu. They’ve carefully timed everything, so as Eames pulls the fish out of the oven and turns the heat off on the tofu, Robert checks the rice and says it’s done. Then he helps Arthur make sure the bok choy is done. Meanwhile, Eames begins to plate the food. Soon enough he’s carrying the plates to the table and setting the places. As he finishes, Robert and Arthur leave the kitchen and settle down at the table. Eames sits too and begins to dig in.

Arthur takes a bite of the tofu and instantly compliments it. Robert and Eames chorus:

“Thanks!”

As Robert prepares to take a bite, he asks:

“How goes being a criminal, you two?”

Arthur responds:

“We’ve got a job in two days, we fly out tomorrow.”

Robert nods and asks:

“Working together, this time?”

Eames nods and can’t help but compliment Arthur:

“I’ll be working with the best pointman in the world.”

Arthur looks shocked for a moment before he replies:

“As always, your work will be impeccable as well, Eames.”

Eames can’t believe that Arthur just said that, so he deflects by purring:

“Of course it will be, Darling.”

Arthur looks annoyed at the pet name and Eames feels himself relax, at least until he looks over and sees Robert grinning at him knowingly. Eames kicks him under the table as Arthur asks:

“So how is your job going, Robert?”

Robert doesn’t flinch at the kick and happily replies. Eames finds he can’t stop smiling, sitting here with his two friends.


End file.
